The white wind-flowers lift up their starry faces
From the green clustering leaves where pink buds hide;
The celandines grow thick in sheltered places,
And soft moss covers all the bank's steep side.
The bluebell leaves shine where the grass grows longest,
Flower spikes between that soon will shoot up tall;
The birds are trying which can sing the strongest —
From tree to tree the sweet-voiced thrushes call.
The air is full of sound and stir and humming
Of bees and birds and flowers that joy to live,
And countless buds show where new flowers are coming,
Telling that Spring has yet more joys to give.